


Don't Sext, Kids

by BadDecisionsAndGoodWriting



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Consensual Violence, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/M, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Sexting, Slapping, Teasing, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadDecisionsAndGoodWriting/pseuds/BadDecisionsAndGoodWriting
Summary: It seemed like a pretty good idea to your horny mind: sext with your boyfriend in public to get your rocks off. To anyone else’s mind, it was a pretty shit idea.





	Don't Sext, Kids

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rather silly little fanfic that was based on an equally silly dream I had once. I tried to stay as true as possible while still keeping it fairly realistic (for Undertale at least). Don't forget, I would like to hear your criticism and comments so I can make better material in the future.
> 
> For updates on stories, sneak peaks, and occasionally fanart please check me out at [TheHeraldOfTheDark](https://theheraldofthedark.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story.  
> 

Sans’ bones ache, like they sometimes do, from his old, worn-out bed that he should have replaced years ago. It was a firmly ingrained need to be as lackadaisical as monstrously possible that kept it straining and squeaking away in his bedroom. In his opinion, and one of the few he didn’t care if other people knew about, it took a dedicated monster to be that lazy. Though he might have seemed like an inactive bum by lack of caring, in truth he was an inactive bum by virtue of caring; he cared too much about Papy to find his own house and leave him alone, he cared too much about Toriel’s work to get a serious job of his own as he does spend a good chunk of time helping her, and he cared too much about his date mate’s education to busy himself with getting something slightly more useful than a degree in quantum mechanics.

Sans rubs his tired eye sockets, _well_ , he thinks to himself, _at least that line of thinking killed a few minutes_.

Sans begrudgingly rolls to the other side of the bed and— _OH FUCK THAT’S THE GROUND,_ ow, ow, _ow_. Why does the universe torment him so? He looks to his bed as if its betrayed him—oh, wait, that’s the couch. He rolled off the couch. He was trying to roll over in bed, but instead he rolled off the couch. Because he had been napping on the couch. Oh. He guesses he better apologize to his bed at some point for falsely accusing it. Shit, he’s just some kind of accusatory bastard this morning, isn’t he? Wait, he checks the clock above the couch, he’s some kind of accusatory bastard this _afternoon_ , actually.

Sans rolls over onto his back and stretches the afternoon nap away. When he opens his eyes, he gets a real good look at the nearly perfect replica of their house in Snowdin, now located on the surface in a slightly more temperate area. The walls are that same burgundy, the floors are the same striped carpet, and even his sock remains in the same place. The only difference is that it isn’t drafty as all get out now, and of course the slightly more standard human amenities like a sink that he can actually reach. He supposes that a good many things have also changed, like not knowing everyone in what basically amounted to his world since monsters are more spread out now, and the occasional rude human insulting him for being a monster. Other than those slightly disheartening things, Sans’ life is pretty much the same as it’s always been.

He jolts upwards as his phone buzzes the obnoxious tone of a whoopee cushion completing its chosen destiny. Like a snail without any motivation, Sans flops over onto his stomach to get at the couch. He grunts when he realizes that he must have dropped the phone between the cushions and starts a crusade to find the damn thing. More “pft-pft-pft”s fill the air as whoever the hell is texting Sans clearly starts the conversation without him. Sans cringes as his exploring hand runs into a particularly crusty stain underneath one of the cushions. That’ll teach him to do _that_ kind of thing on the couch… except it won’t. At long last (more like after a minute at most) he bumps his hand into the lost phone, which goes off one more time before he can get a look at it.

 _Now_ , he thinks to himself, _where’s the fire…_ Oh it’s you! That’s a relief, he thought it might be Papyrus telling him of another human he’d “caught” (god that was so awkward, he’d had to not only explain to Papyrus that most humans don’t beat each other up to make friends and apologize to the poor sap to keep the both of them from getting sued). Instead of his brother breaking more laws, it’s just you asking about his day, how lovely! Sans, not in the mood to get the couch in working order, simply flops onto the ground to respond.

You: _Hey Sans, what’s up?_

You: _Wait, you up?_

You: _Oh, you probably aren’t. Well, when you get this, Good Morning sleepybones! I wanna talk to you!_

Sans: _im awake babe_

Sans: _wats cracking?_

You: _You know, the usual_

You: _Studying, researching, trying to translate what people are saying to me_

Sans: _sounds like fun_

You: _Not without you here :(_

Sans, despite his best efforts, blushes at the thought.

Sans: _i miss u 2 babe_

You: _I just can’t stop thinking about you_

You: _Your voice, your ketchup smell_

Sans: _aw_

You: _Your tongue_

That’s… Sans can’t really find the will to do much other than stare at the words on the screen in front of him. He sort of denies to himself that he’s seeing what he thinks he’s seeing, despite the evidence literally in front of his face. He decides to search into his contacts just to make sure that the phone he’s holding is actually his and not Papyrus’ or some random monster’s. To his confusion, it most definitely is his. He, with only a moment of hesitation, hits himself with the phone to determine if he’s awake. All that does is confirm what he already knew and give him a slight headache. He’s forced to admit, despite his better judgment, that the texts he just received from you are legitimately yours, and that they’re for him.

Sans: _my tongue?_

Sans: _y wod u be missing my tongue?_

A part of him already knows the response, but it’s just not possible coming from you. Not that your guys’ relationship is sexless or something (Sans doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that with the way you look at him) it’s just that… sexting? He did not see that coming. He reasons, what with the long distance you are away from him, somehow a different text must have inserted itself into the conversation. Or maybe that was from a different conversation he forgot about. Or maybe—.

You: _I just miss the feeling of it inside of me_

You: _How wonderful your magic feels_

You: _How blissed out you get while you’re doing it…_

You: _How good you look under me_

You: _;)_

If Sans had breath, it’d definitely be caught in his throat right now. He finds his hands shaking from the shock and budding arousal in his pelvis. He suddenly feels exposed to the world, what with him in the middle of the floor. He considers teleporting to his room, but that would be difficult unless he went into another room first, since he has to exit the room just to pull that trick off. Instead, he gets up and quickly flops down onto the poorly made couch. He can already feel the magic pumping in his chest, ready to activate. He holds off though, as these kinds of things deserve to be taken slowly.

Sans: _wat else have u been missing?_

 

The large tree you’re under shades you from the worst of the sun’s rays. You’re thankful for it too, as the heat where you are is so much more intense than it is at home. A difference in the position relative to the sun, as you’ve been told by your travel guide, would be to blame for that. Right now, you’re on a college sponsored (or at the very least encouraged) visit to another country, as apparently, they believe that studying the exact same stuff in another place helps somehow. Luckily, you speak enough of the local language to communicate effectively, so you’re not just hoping some random subtitles will pop up every time someone tries to talk to you.

You look around your small enclosure, aka the canopy of trees that was set aside by whoever built the park, to check if anyone is there. All that looks back at you is a stray bird, perched on one of the trees to your left. The branch flexes as the little bird takes off, clearly spooked by your presence. The natural, clear scent of the air both relaxes you and makes you tense up. Your natural instincts, you’re guessing, are quite pleased to be out in such a pretty little park, with all the grass and flowers and trees. Your thinking brain, on the other hand, is terrified at the idea of even thinking about sex in such an open place. Your thinking brain is a fucking pussy, clearly.

You giggle as you read Sans’ text, pretty sure that he only now just picked up what you were putting down. Not that you’d ever hold it against him of course. You weren’t lying when you said you missed Sans: this vacation may not be the longest, but it certainly is lonely without your favorite bag of bones. The combined loneliness and cultural differences gave you a great idea for how to exploit one and satisfy the other. Although it is risky, you’ve decided that since most people can’t really understand your language, you thought you could finally try that voyeurism thing all the kids seem to love. Hopefully, the fact you’re in a public park won’t become a problem.

You: _I really miss teasing your ribs, and watching you squirm_

Sans shivers and begins to trace a pattern over his still clothed chest.

 Sans: _i dont miss when u tease me_

Sans: _sometimes u just leave me like that_. Fuck, why is he doing this, he curses himself, way to kill the mood, Sans.

You: _Haha_

You: _Well, I don’t miss how you like to touch me and then take a break_

You: _You know, in a completely different side of the country?_

You: _You can just be so mean sometimes :(_ You giggle as you type that, not all that upset at the memory.

Sans takes a deep breath, trying to think of how he can save this. Sans: _sorry babe_

Sans: _u know that im just,_ No Sans, don’t do it, _fucking around_. Sans slaps the phone to his face again, nearly certain that you’re about to disown him or something.

You cackle at the joke, kicking yourself for not seeing that coming. You: _tell me Sans_

You: _What would you do to make it up to me?_

Sans takes a sigh of relief, maybe he can still save the mood. Sans: _id start by kissing u, of course_

Sans: _i wodnt stop until u were panting in my mouth_

Sans: _when i saw that_

Sans: _id use my tongue_

You shiver at the mental image. You: _Sounds like I’d be out of breath by then_

Sans: _probably_

Sans: _but i wodnt stop_

Sans: _after all…_

Sans: _ud be losing a lot more by the time id be done w/ u._

Stars, that actually made it sound like he knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t, by the way. If he somehow manages to keep going with this oddly suave thing he’s got going on now, well, he might not seem like a loser sweating and just barely touching himself on a grimy old couch. He cannot thank the universe enough for Papyrus’s absence at the moment.

You squirm on the park bench, trickles of excitement already making their way through your body. It’s just the tiniest bit depressing that you won’t be able to act this out until you get home, but damn is getting this kind of feedback just what the doctor ordered. Except there’s no doctor, just your horny ass sitting in public trying to conceal your burgeoning arousal. Needless to say, you’re very, _very_ glad you picked a relatively unpopular park for this.

You: _What else would I be losing~?_

Sans: _ur clothes, 4 1 thing_

Sans: _as i kissd u_

Sans: _id slide my hands up ur shirt_

Tentatively, you try to replicate the motion. You ghost your hand under your shirt and up your chest. The feeling is, unfortunately, dampened due to your familiarity with your own touches. If you focus hard enough, though, you can almost feel the cold roundness of Sans’s hands and the small sparks from his magical biology. Even with your unabashed confidence in doing this outside, you still nervously check around for any gadflies taking a picture or staring at you.

Sans: _i wod go reallllll slo, tho_

Sans: _id relly take my time_

Sans: _just_

Sans: _feelin ur body_

Sans: _drinkin in the way u move_

Sans: _and the way u sqirm_

Sans: _id tell u how beutiful u were_

Sans: _nd how much i missd u_

Sans, despite being an emotionally closed off bastard, couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat just thinking about it. He knows he’s acting like a sap, but he really does miss you. He’s not quite sure if you’re even in the mood for this kind of thing, but God, he wishes you were here. And not just to plow you into the couch, either. You’re just so good to him and he’s such an asshole but you still come to him and—like some sort of super virgin, Sans feels a tear or two slip from his eye sockets. His train of thought goes on long enough for you to suspect it might be your turn to say something. Damn, he is _bad_ at sexting.

You: _I bet I would have recovered a little by then_

You: _So as you were teasing me_

You: _(I mean really Sans, weren’t you going to take my clothes off?)_

You: _I’d take the opportunity to slip my hands slowly down your neck_

Sans, off his little feelings fest, curses the blush going across his face. He’s not sure if he didn’t expect you to play along in the game, or if he didn’t see this coming, but he’s really thrown off. He kind of forgot that he was supposed to be taking your clothes off in this strange little game you’re both playing. It’s just a little hard to keep track of things that aren’t happening. Whatever, he could enjoy you taking the helm any day of the week (or in a text conversation). Especially considering it meant he could just sit back and let you do all the work.

You: _I’d carefully trace the line of each vertebra_

You: _Down and down and down_

You: _I wouldn’t do it just how you liked it though_

You: _Oh no_

You: _You haven’t earned it yet_

Embarrassingly, Sans already feels his equipment starting up in his pants. He had promised himself that he would wait until this little game got to it, but you sure were making that hard. Real hard. There may have been a few other reasons he was ok with you taking the lead besides him being horribly lazy. He certainly didn’t have a lot of experience before he met you, usually just content to relieve himself on his own time. Being able to just follow what you would do, what you would demand of him, made his awkward attempts at sensuality a little less stressful.

You: _I wouldn’t even bother taking your hoodie off_

You: _Since you didn’t bother to take off mine_

You: _*I mean clothes_

You: _I’d just stroke them through your hoodie_

You: _So lightly that you couldn’t possibly get anything out of it_

Though it’s a bit more of a stretch than Sans would normally endure, he does his best to reach behind himself and stroke along his spine. Just like a human trying to reach a scratch on their back, he isn’t really doing it like you would be able to. It’s more like he’s clawing at his aching vertebra like he’s got a note attached to his back and he’s trying to pry it off. He knows that his clumsy, harsh touches are a far cry from what you’re trying to depict, but he’s too lazy to find a better way to do it. Just like your trying to do, paradoxically, he really isn’t getting much out of this besides an aching shoulder (though that parts probably not what you’re going for).

You: _I just know you’d be so frustrated with me_

You: _Haha_

You: _(I’d probably laugh)_

You: _I’d tell you how adorable you look when you’re flustered_

You: _And I just know you would look at me like you were going to shut me up_

You: _Somehow_

You: _…_

Sans stares at his phone screen for a few moments, totally getting what you were laying down, but not knowing how to pick it up. The writing is practically on the wall: it’s his turn to do something, and it’s gotta be hot. The only problem, among many, is that he isn’t exactly sure what the hell to do? Like… what do you want? A kiss? His hand to cover your mouth? A slap? Ok, probably not that last one. Sans jolts as he realizes that a minute has gone by, fuck, he’s gotta say something…!

Sans: _id push u down to the couch_. Ok, that’s a good start. Now he just has to not fuck this up.

Sans: _and id ask u_

Sans: _u wanna fuck?_ If he wasn’t afraid of upsetting the neighbors, Sans would have screamed just now. “u wanna fuck?” is not sexy. It sounds like a teenager trying to dm his crush. Or friend. Or acquaintance. Or some random person online. Fuck. Welp. Nowhere to go but up.

Sans: _u know in a sexy way_. Sans tries not to cry. On the other side of the world, you try not to laugh.

You: _omg Sans_

You: _You’re absolutely ridiculous_

 A welling up of pride brings a different kind of blush to his face. Although he had planned to wait until you both got to that point to use any sort of magic, he couldn’t stop his eye from crackling that dangerous cyan and yellow. He suddenly finds the words to type.

Sans: _u think u can laugh @ me like that?_

Sans: _id bite down on ur neck_

Sans: _really really hard_

Sans: _til u stopped laughin_

Sans: _till i felt ur blood on my chin_

Your jaw drops. It’s not like Sans _never_ got a little rough in bed, it’s just that every time you’ve been the one to initiate it, not him. To see him doing it, albeit in a text conversation and not in real life, without you prompting it… you do one last cursory glance around before you dig your nails into your neck. Sure, they may feel nothing like teeth, but there’s no way you’re making yourself bleed out in public like some sort of masochistic voyeur. Wait…

You: _oooh boy_

You: _I’d probably scream_

You: _Probably involuntarily even_

Sans: _id growl into ur throat_

Sans: _so that way ud feel it all over ur body_

You refuse to be left behind in this weird game. You: _I’d slide my hands up, and take off your hoodie_

Sans shudders and takes off his hoodie just as you said you would have. He does it teasingly slowly, not quite as he’d imagine you’d be doing it in this instance, but just the right speed for him to continue to feel suave. Plus, the mental image of you writhing in anticipation while you wait for his response makes it even harder to keep his magic down.

Sans: _id stop biting u 4 a sec so i could rip ur shirt off_

You: _I’d rip your shirt off_. You mentally beg yourself to not turn this into some kind of contest. It’s not a contest. It’s not a contest. It’s a contest. It’s a cont—wait dammit.

You: _I’d stuff my hands into your ribs!_

Sans: _id squze ur chest_

You: _I’d tap them like a xylophone!!_

Sans: _id slap ur tatas like bongos_

You: _That sounds like it would hurt!!!_

Sans: _so wud makin my chest a instrument_

You: _Fuck you!!!!_

Sans: _we shud do that_

You: _What?!_

Sans: _fuck_

You: _oh right haha that’s what we were doing weren’t we?_

Sans: _ye_

You: _kk_

You: _what were we doing again?_

Sans: _i got ur shirt off_

You: _lol_

You: _You sly dog ;)_

You: _I think I have your shirt off, as well._

As quick as he can be bothered to do it, Sans removes his grimy, signature white t-shirt. He can’t help but glance around in paranoia, hoping to not catch a glimpse of his brother’s black sockets. He tries to assure himself that if Papyrus did come home, he would probably have either already seen him being embarrassing, or he would have announced his presence. That was simply just the Papyrus thing to do. As Sans tries to sensually remove his shirt, he can hear his phone buzzing like crazy besides him. He simply throws off the garment and picks up his phone, not interested in putting on a show for no one. He casually starts rubbing at his rib cage as he reads your messages.

You: _All right, so imagine me shirtless beneath you_

You: _And I’m imagining you shirtless above me_

You: _…_

You: _You’re touching yourself already, aren’t you?_

You: _Shame on you~_

You: _I didn’t tell you that you could do that yet >B)_

Sans face flushes blue as he imagines your naughty expression as you speak those words. With a shudder, he drags his other hand away from his ribs and back to his phone. The small bit of monster pride in him scoffs at him taking orders from a human, much less one half-way across the world. He quickly and shamefully shakes those thoughts off, not wanting to be one of those damn elitist monsters that insist humans are scum. Those kinds of feelings were very common in the underground, and even though he never believed them, it’s still a hard sentimentality to erase.

With a grumble, Sans decides to admit to his crime. _how did u even no i was doin that?_

You: _HA!_

You: _I guess I have a sixth sense for when you’re misbehaving >B)_

You squirm in your seat, excited already by your own words. You’re certainly not one to shy away from taking control in the bedroom, though it isn’t always the case, so you certainly won’t back down even if you are so far away. The heat building in your loins gets stronger and stronger with each passing minute, and you aren’t sure how long you’ll be able to keep yourself together. You glance around once more, still not seeing anyone too close to you. You do thank yourself for choosing a spot enclosed in trees, and off the main path. It might mean your field of view is smaller, but it also means that people probably aren’t going to come over to where you are. You hope.

Sans: _ugh watevr_

Sans: _u think ur so smart huh?_

Sans: _wel_

Sans: _i notice how smug u lok_

Sans: _and i dont like it_

Sans: _so i use my magic to_

Sans: _wait_

You: _???_

A worried, sick feeling in your gut blossums as you read his words. Not because you wouldn’t allow him to take control of a situation, but because…. There’s something off to the way he said that. Trying to decode what’s happening makes you feel heavy, very heavy, like you could just flop over—wait FUCK. You feel something swirling around you, around the bench and your clothes. The pressing, heavy sensation, a bit like the soreness after exercise, encircles you as you frantically try to find the source. A ghostly blue essence surrounds you, and pins you to the bench so you’re lying flat on your back.

You: _the FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!_ you type, Sans having left enough control for you to still text him.

Sans: _im just showin u how i feel about your teasing_

Sans: _seems like ur in a…_

Sans: _preDICKament now, huh?_

You grit your teeth as you can practically feel his laughter even through the phone. Or maybe it’s his magic that is currently pinning you, maybe you can feel it through that. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves or reconcile what’s happening. To be fair, the bit of magic he’s using is very light, it’s hard to see, really. So if anyone were to walk by, they might just think that you’re relaxing on the bench like a hobo and not being assaulted with magic.

Sans: _thats ok right?_

You: _…_

You: _Why the hell not?_

Sans: _gud_

Sans: _wel, now that ur prety much immobile_

Sans: _i gues i can touch myslf as much as i want_

True to his word, Sans returns his other hand to massaging his ribs, enjoying the high that doing this is giving him.

Sans: _i start touchin myslf in front of u_

You: _well don’t expect me to help_

Sans: _thats fine_

Sans: _itd be a lot betr to watch u want to do that lol_

Your face flushes with how true that is.

You: _I’d tell you that you must be feeling soooo clever right now_

You: _using your magic to tease a poor, less magically inclined human_

Sans: _thats funny_

Sans: _i do actuly_

Sans: _u rlly have a 6 sense for these things, huh?_

You struggle against his magic, trying to sit up again if for no other reason than to feel back in control. Sans, though he can’t see it, can feel you trying to fight his magic.

Sans: _oh?_

Sans: _u tryin to get up?_

Sans: _ah ah ah_

Sans: _i dont think so_

Without much warning, you feel something ghost under your shirt and start rubbing your belly. You gasp and squirm away, trying not to call out too loudly since the last fucking thing you want right now is to be found like this. You strain your head upwards so you can see what’s going on. To your absolute horror, you find a turquoise, disjointed hand, creeping under your shirt.

You: _The fuck?!_

You: _Since when could you do this?!_

Sans: _heh_

Sans: _its a new trick i lernd_

Sans: _u know ur internet up here has a lot of ideas ;)_

You suppress another gasp as the hand ghosts up to your chest, barely touching the flesh there.

You: _I thought you were supposed to be touching yourself, not me_

You: _Dumbass_

You give off a squeal as the hand slaps your belly, not hard enough to bruise but certainly hard.

Sans: _i may not be the smartest_

Sans: _or the most dom_

Sans: _but dont u think u shud be nicer 2 the guy litrly holdin u down with magic?_

Sans: _poor planin on ur part_

You squirm as much as you can as the hand resumes its journey up your chest. It sends tingles across your skin, as if it’s magic essence is soaking into you wherever it goes. With great shame, you rub your legs together as much as you can without being caught, trying to get that little bit of friction going.

You: _you’re being disgusting_

You: _that’s what I’d say to you if I was there_

You: _and quite frankly what I’m saying to you now_

Sans: _huh_

He brings up the magic hand and slaps you across the belly a few more times. He can just feel you tense up and the rushing release of an (assumedly) embarrassing sound as he does. For once, he decides not to hold back his own magic and summons his ecto-cock right there and then, just because he knows you’d be pissed if he did that.

Sans: _again u dont make the best choices huh?_

Sans: _tsk tsk_

You: _Urgh_

You: _I’m looking up at you with a very angry expression_

You: _I’m so pissed that you’re trying to assert yourself over me_

Sans: _i dont think im tryin to do anything_

Sans: _i think im doin it ;)_

You: _omg_

You: _you’re insufferable!_

You: _are you feeling brave cause you can’t see my face or something?_

You: _is that it?!_

You: _you’re in so much trouble when I get home_

Sans: _more big words_

He casually slaps you on the belly again. Sans: _its like u think i care_

The truth is, Sans cares very much. However, the idea of you squirming in your overseas bed, trying not to bother your host family is just too great an image for him. Maybe it’s just in his nature to piss off the people he loves most, or maybe it’s because his barely-there-pride is demanding that he mix things up a bit. Maybe it’s even because of your reason, of him not being able to see your face that’s making him so bold. Whatever the reason, he’s not gonna stop… unless you ask him to.

You wince at the cruel treatment of your belly, but it sends heat to your core just the same. He’s not doing it too hard or too softly, just the right amount of admonishment and a genuine attempt to please you to really rile you up.

Sans: _r u imaginig this rn?_

Sans: _me hovering over u_

Sans: _slapin ur stomach whenvr u sased me_

Sans: _r u seig the lok id give you?_

Sans: _u know the one_

Sans: _that look with the eye? and the grin?_

You: _You’re always grinning though_

You squeal, rather loudly, as he once again hits that now sensitive spot on your belly.

You: _well, are you imagining my face?_

You: _I’d look so pissed at you_

You: _but I bet I’d be blushing_

You: _…_

You: _silently begging you to continue_

Sans eye lights up, well, it sort of flashes brighter. It was already on. Sans can feel his confidence suddenly burst, though another part of him is trying to get it to crumble. He knows very well that you’re not a stranger to being more of a sub from time to time, but those encounters are rareish and he normally needs a lot of your help to stick to it. But this time he’s gonna prove to you that he’s the boss. At least until you get home and scold him in your special way.

Sans: _uh wow_

Sans: _thats prety hot_

You: _thanks_

Sans: _heh_

You: _lol_

Sans: _next id probably kis u again_

Sans: _tho I cant do_

Clumsily, Sans presses the send button instead of the delete button as his magic flares stronger.

Sans: _actuly_

Another wave of “oh my god he isn’t doing this is he” goes through you as his magic shifts around you. Something bright blue and occasionally yellow flashes in front of your eyes, blinding you momentarily. Whatever it is feels oddly wet and overly flexible. Briefly, you wonder if a super large worm has landed on you. Your body involuntarily flinches as it trails down your cheek and your logic brain can’t debunk such a claim yet. As the small tickles of your skeleboyfriends magic dance across your cheek you realize what he’s done.

Without a warning that he can’t really give anyways, his tongue assaults your mouth. It licks along your lips like he’s slurping up the ketchup on his plate. It worms its way inside your mouth, slowly, burrowing its way into the warmth of your inner body. You don’t open your mouth right away, at least not the barrier of your teeth, as horrified thoughts of getting caught seemingly making out with air or with a ghost or something flood your mind. You look around in a panic, praying you won’t see some gadfly watching you.

A sharp slap wakes you out of your thoughts and sends another wave of heat to your legs as Sans clearly gets bored of waiting for you to open your mouth. Luckily for him, you open your mouth to gasp and/or shriek at the sudden raw feeling. Luckily for you, your gasp and/or shriek is muffled by his tongue stuffing itself into your mouth. His tongue absorbs your moan as it pushes further into your mouth, blocking out most of your heated noises. You’re openly writhing under his magical weight, while also trying to cling to the idea that this is supposed to be a silent and covert operation.

You’re just starting to run out of oxygen when his ghostly tongue dissipates in your mouth. You shudder as the magic sweeps away from you, leaving behind a strange, almost indescribable taste if it wasn’t for the fact it was definitely ketchup. You smack your lips uncomfortably as you bring your phone up to your face.

Sans: _heh good right?_

Sans: _i mised how ur mouth felt_

 Sans: _especily your teeth, those are great_

Sans: _its the closest i wud get to felin ur bones_

Sans: _i ment that in a non serial murderer fashion_

Sans: _i wasnt planin on_

Sans: _nvm u know what i mean_

Sans: _wait shit u need to breath fuck_

Sans: _babe? r u stil alive?_

You almost type the phrase “Yes of course I am you dumbo,” but then you realize that he probably sent most of those messages as he was stuffing his tongue down your throat. This irritates you. In retaliation, you decide to not respond at all, just to screw with him. You’re still a good datemate, right?

Sans: _shit im a murderer_

Sans: _im the thing i was afraid 2 b_

Sans: _the thing i always promised myslf id nevr b_

Sans: _im a true monster_

Sans: _cud u evr love a true monster?_

Sans: _u cant cuz ur dead_

A wave of guilt washes over you as you read his messages, as you realize how shitty you’re being at the moment. You’re about to respond when you feel something pull down your pants.

Sans: _jk lol, i know ur alive_

Sans: _i can feel ur soul pumping or whatever_

Sans: _I just wanted to mess with you lol_

Sans: _did i rly blow ur mind so much that u didnt respond?_

Sans: _jk about that too, i know ur lokin at ur phone, i can fel ur arm resisting my magic_

You squirm as you reply to your obviously trolling boyfriend.

You: _you dick head_

You: _first you choke me, then you insult me?!_

Sans: _lol_

Sans: _u were trolin me 2 tho_

Sans: _its equal trolin_

You: _Oh is that what you’d call it?!_

Sans: _ye_

You automatically lift your hips up as he drags your pants down your legs. You also automatically look around the park for anyone nearby. You shift awkwardly as the pants stop at your knees.

You: _Well that’s not what I’d call it!!!_

Sans, on the other side of the world, chuckles at your obvious fluster, still not quite believing that he’s the one making you like that. Due to the nature of his magic, the way he needs to be moving as if he’s the one pushing and pulling the targets of it, Sans resorted to making out with a pillow in your absence. To be fair, he was technically making out with you, but the pillow was the one who took his weight and his teeth. Ah, the things one does to get off.

Currently, Sans is mimicking the motion of pulling down your pants by dragging the pillow down to his hips. He figures that he must have pulled your pants down enough, and he confirms it by slapping the sides of the pillow, which with his magic he identifies as being your thighs. Sweet, he thinks as he feels your back arch, somehow this nonsense that he was fairly sure was going to result in you being embedded in a wall is actually working.

Once more he picks up his phone to text you.

Sans: _u no its a real shame that i cant se u rn_

Sans: _maybe u shud describe how u lok…?_

Sans: _cud b hot_

You suck in a light breath as you feel his magic hands skim the outside of your underwear, once again looking around for any gad flies.

You: _Well I’m probs blushing_

You: _My stomach probably has a bunch of red marks on it_

You: _Thanks to you >:(_

Sans smacks that area once more, and you swear to god you can hear his cheeky chuckle. His hand brushing along your core turns the painful motion into a burst of ecstasy that zips right to your loins. You don’t think you need to tell him that he made you shudder, so you skip out on that detail.

Sans: _i fel so bad 4 slapin u so much_

You: _No you don’t_

Sans: _u caught me_

Sans: _but i can make it betr_

You don’t even get to ask him how before his tongue is already tracing the red mark on your stomach. The flesh tingles under the not-so-foreign slime of Sans’ tongue. It’s getting harder to fully support your phone with your shaking arms, but you manage.

You: _well that’s one way to apologize I guess_

Sans: _heh_

You: _but I know a better way_

Sans: _fucking?_

You: _Fucking_

Sans takes a deep breath, and finally undoes his pants. Of course, his natural biology doesn’t come equipped with the kind of equipment a human would recognize but seeing himself naked like that gets him pumped either way. He’s so pumped, he barely notices the sound of the door opening.

You give one last fearful glance to your surroundings as you feel your underwear slipping down too. You suck in yet another shaky breath as you wait for the big ticket. It’s hard not to notice how chilly the air feels on your privates as you wait for Sans to… fix that for you. You groan preemptively as you see blue and yellow starting to form near your entrance. You’re already shaking when you feel him slowly encircling you with his head. Then it slowly starts to enter and then—suddenly, all the magic holding you down dissipates, along with the penetration you should be feeling right now.

In a bit of a rage, you sit straight up, glaring at your phone as if it would provide the answers.

Sans: _jkhdfhalskdf_

Sans: _hdfjahdfljk_

You: _You’re supposed to be fucking me right now you trashbag! Where’s my dick?!_

Sans: _dhflkasdfk_

You: _Is this some elaborate prank? It’s not funny_

Sans: _I would do no such thing_

You: _Then fuck me already!!!_

You: _Is this a game?! I’m not enjoying it!!!_

Sans: _You two were about to fuck?! But you’re on vacation right now!_

A sudden chill wracks your body as you start to realize what happened.

You: _Papyrus?_

Sans: _Yes, and I’m very disappointed in both of you!_

Your entire face is completely overtaken by a blush, your body feels hot but not in a good way.

You: _Oh please no_

Sans: _Well if you didn’t want to be embarrassed maybe you shouldn’t have done this!!!_

The real Sans, the one not on his phone, is currently half-crying on the floor, screaming silently into his hands. Papyrus had come in so abruptly that Sans had spasmed several times before he could warn you what was going on. It had also caused him to fall on the ground, his magic returning to him, meaning he accidently flashed his very disapproving brother. That very same brother had wrestled the phone away from Sans, just to tell you how disappointed he was.

Sans: _Neither of you are going to live this down!!!_

You: _Omg who caaaares_

You: _We’re both adults we can do what we want_

Sans: _I know you’re outside right now_

You almost drop your phone with how fast you pull your pants up. You have no idea how Papyrus seems to know what the people on the other end of the phone are doing, but it’s a phenomenon that has yet to come in handy.

Sans: _Of all the irresponsible things you two could have done!!_

Sans: _Do you two even know how much trouble you can get in to for doing something like this?! And you’re in a foreign country and_

You put down your phone and scream into your hands. You can almost feel Sans screaming along with you all the way across the world. You have learned an important lesson though: Don’t sext. Just don’t. It’s not worth it… If someone catches you.

**Author's Note:**

> So I have been having some interesting ideas for fanfics recently, but the problem is I worry if the fandom is too risky to write about. I'm wondering what you guys would think if I wanted to try my hand at writing some creepypasta fanfiction. I've been silently and slowly working on almost completely redesigning how creepypasta characters are written about and trying to make them more realistic/more human so that way they are more enjoyable. I've even tried to assign many of them classpects because I'm homestuck trash and I do this for every fucking character available. If it turns out that there's not an interest or some people think it's in bad taste, I won't touch it. If some people do think I could make it work, I'll get my little fingers a-typing away to produce more interesting content. This is not to say that I'll stop writing for UT or FNAF, but that I want to expand even more.
> 
> Since I have no real way of updating you guys, this is the best I can do. Lately, I have been diagnosed with depression. Among other things, this makes it very difficult for me to be motivated and inspired when writing. It also makes it harder to care about the actual material I'm trying to produce. I am still trying to produce content, but it has been difficult. I'm not sure when I'm going to get better, and going to get better at being able to write more, but I am trying. You'll probably see much less content from me for a while, until things start to turn around. My apologies.


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